The Filth Wouldn't Go Away
by Amai
Summary: Daisuke reflects on the downfall of his life. (Daiken/Kensuke, with a little bit of Daikari/Takari in it too...summaries are bad- read to see what I mean)


The Filth Wouldn't Go Away   
By Amai 

**Disclaimer-** Digimon and all it's characters are not copyright me, but copyright Toei Animation/Bandai (there probably are others, but I can't remember offhand). I wish they were, but sadly, not all wishes come true. The only thing that's copyright me is this fanfic, so no stealing, kiddies. 

**Author's Notes-** Finally! I wrote something short so I could post it. The other stuff I'm doing will take a while, and I wanted something I could just finish a post. My prayers were answered. This is rather depressing..and the ending leaves room for more, I guess. It's Kensuke/Daiken...maybe more Kensuke and through Daisuke's POV. Oh and yes, the 'she' that he refers to is Hikari.   
  
  
  
I felt sick, and dirty. And I was...in more ways than I could think of. I looked at my hands. Where these really mine? Caked with dirt, a reflection of who I grew up to be. 

I was in the alley, my home, for now. I never had a lasting home. I never wanted a lasting home. The longer I stayed, the more pain I got. The more filthy I got inside and outside. 

I had no idea what I was going to do now. I had no way of getting money in my condition, and I could barely stand up. From everything...the beatings of the real world. Inside and outside, non-stop. I walked until my legs felt like falling off. I had to fight to eat, and most of the time I lost. I was going to die, but I didn't care. The world didn't care, so why should I have cared? 

I slumped over to my side and tried to vomit. To rid myself of whatever was inside me making me so damn sick. But I couldn't. I hadn't eaten in weeks...I had nothing in me to throw up. 

You know, I still had my crests with me? God knows how I kept them..it was what kept me from going insane and running into the street hoping to get hit by a truck or something. I kept hoping...hoping that one day they would shine, and I would be safe and happy and clean again. 

It never happened, but I kept on wishing...waiting...believing that it would. 

I would look at them for seemingly endless hours, pretending it was all a dream. How did this happen in the first place? Three simple words. 

I love you. 

They make you and break you. And that's exactly what they did to me. Was I so stupid to believe that she really did love me? Or was she stupid enough to believe she really loved me as well?...I maybe I didn't love her in the first place. Maybe I was just lying to myself. Everything was perfect until the day she disappeared. Ran away from me. 

Later we would find out that she had killed herself besides his grave. 

By he, I mean Takeru. It was then that I realized she had always loved him. I was just a way for her to cope. I suppose it made sense..I was the second closest one to her. When she killed herself, she killed my reason to exist as a normal person. It was my fault! I had to leave...I thought it could make things better. 

And as I tried to stand up, my legs screaming at the sudden movement with pain, I realize how much of a bullshit idea that was. 

I had mixed emotions running through my head. I shouldn't have loved her...but I did. Didn't I? And what did she do to repay me? Sent me this god forsaken life. It was her death that made me do this. I was angry at her. I was angry at the world. Angry at why I was starting to realize that maybe I didn't love her in the first place. That's why I left. 

I started walking out of the alley that had become my temporary home feeling naked among all of those regular people. I was so dirty...my hands, the ones caked with the dirt of every sin I committed since her death. And the people stared. They stared at my filth and turned away. I wondered if I walked back to the others would they do that? To him....the one I had left for her-no, I couldn't think of that. 

I must have been weaker than I had thought as I felt myself topple to the ground as darkness came over me. 

A darkness I had grown to accept as part of my life forever.   
  
— 

I woke up in an unfamiliar house. But...some how I knew that whoever took me had a legitimate reason. Not like the others. Not like the ones that added to the filth on my hands. 

I stood up and walked weakly to where I thought the washroom was. I stared at the mirror....I hadn't seen my face in such a long time. I looked wasted. Fragile. I wasn't surprised. Why the hell should I have been surprised? There was nothing that I wouldn't believe now. I had seen everything, experienced everything. 

At least, I had thought so. 

I had turned on the water and was scrubbing my hands unconsciously. Hoping to wash away the filth. Wash it all away. But every time I looked down, it was still there. Still as dirty as it had been before. I scrubbed harder and harder, and barely noticed when someone turned off the faucet and swung me around into their direction. 

"Daisuke! What are you doing? Your hands...they're bleeding..." 

He was holding me. He was still as beautiful as before. And then, I realized....maybe it truly wasn't just she that didn't love me. I hadn't loved her as well. Those fleeting glanced he and I had shot together..but I wanted to hide away from that. I wanted to do that so badly. No, the day my hands became filth wasn't the day she died. It was the day I said 'I love you' to her. And not to him. And as he looked at me, so beautiful, so concerned, so clean...I felt so ashamed. Why did he bother picking up someone as dirty as me? I looked at my hands, bloodied by my washing, collapsing into his waiting arms unable to cry, just whimper out of pure shame. 

"Ken...the dirt won't go away...why won't it go away..." 

It just wouldn't go away.   
  



End file.
